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Harry Potter was having an absolute nightmare of a time at the Dursleys’.
It was the summer between fifth and sixth year, and there was no doubt about it: every year, Harry found it harder to put up with the only relatives he had left.
As if that weren’t enough, Dudley seemed determined to get on his nerves at every possible opportunity, especially whenever they were alone.
The truth was, Harry and his best friend, Ron Weasley, had been secretly dating since fourth year. Hermione was the only person who knew.
Unfortunately, when the Dursleys had come to collect him from King’s Cross, Dudley had caught Harry saying goodbye to Ron with a kiss behind one of the station columns.
“So you’re a freak in every possible way, then. A freak for doing magic and a freak for being a poof!” Dudley mocked one afternoon when they happened to run into each other at the nearby park.
“Funny seeing you without your little mates around to defend you,” Harry shot back from where he sat on one of the swings. “You must be feeling terribly brave, trying to have a go at me without backup.”
“Ha! You can’t do magic outside school!”
“Try me,” Harry challenged.
“You act all tough, but you’re nothing but a pathetic little poof. Crying every night over some bloke called Sirius… what, was he your boyfriend?”
“Don’t you dare, Dudley.”
Harry’s voice had dropped dangerously low, his hands already curling into fists.
Luckily for Dudley, that time he merely gave Harry a nasty, mocking laugh before walking away.
The truth was that since Sirius’s death, Harry hadn’t stopped having nightmares.
Again and again, he watched Sirius fall backwards through the Veil. He watched himself trying to go after him, desperately hoping that perhaps the Veil had simply transported Sirius somewhere else—that sooner or later he would come back, or at least send Harry a letter.
It was one of the things Harry wrote about in the letter he sent Ron that night.
Dear Ron,
How’ve the holidays been so far? Hope Mrs Weasley hasn’t got you doing too many chores.
I know we agreed I’d come to yours in two weeks, but I really wish I could see you now.
Same old rubbish here. Nightmares nearly every night, the Dursleys despising every cell in my body and—oh! Dudley knows about us now. He saw us kissing at the station.
I don’t care, really, but I hate it when he uses it against me. It’s the only thing he can tease me about that actually makes me happy, and I don’t want him ruining it.
P.S. The Prophet came the other day. Saw Percy’s working with the Minister now. He must be absolutely unbearable.
Can’t wait to see you. Miss you loads.
Love,
Harry
Harry folded the letter small enough for Hedwig to carry. She gave his finger an affectionate nip before spreading her wings and taking off into the night.
After that, Harry went downstairs for dinner.
He was sitting at the table with the Dursleys whilst Dudley watched one of his countless televisions when, as though Harry’s luck couldn’t possibly get any worse, a short segment came on about Muggle same-sex couples demanding equal treatment and respect.
Harry heard Uncle Vernon snort.
“Respect? What sort of respect do they expect when they insist on parading that disgusting behaviour around? They’re a menace to society!”
Harry felt Dudley’s heavy stare on him.
He looked back, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his cousin’s face.
“You’re right, Dad,” Dudley said. “Imagine having one of those in the family.”
He looked directly at Harry as he said it.
“What d’you mean, Dudders?” Aunt Petunia asked, sipping her tea with a disgusted expression at the conversation.
“Dunno, Mum. Think someone here might be even more of a freak than we thought.”
Harry shot to his feet, wand already in his hand, his face burning red and his breathing heavy like an angry bull.
“Something you want to tell us, boy?” Uncle Vernon demanded, stepping directly in front of Harry. “You telling me that on top of being a freak, you’re a poof as well?”
“So what if I am?”
“Don’t you dare!” Aunt Petunia snapped, but Uncle Vernon stopped her.
“So… you live under my roof and now you want to bring that filthy behaviour into this house as well?” Vernon growled. “I’ll beat it out of you if I have to.”
⸻
That night, Harry lay trembling on the tiny bed in his bedroom.
His ribs hurt.
One eye was swollen and bruised, his lip was split, and so were his glasses.
He couldn’t repair them without using magic.
But what did it matter?
Right then, Harry wanted nothing more than to surrender to sleep.
Or simply disappear.
Harry remained on his bed, still wearing his shoes, unable to sleep as he remembered every blow, every kick Uncle Vernon had given him in the middle of the dining room. The way he’d insulted him, called him every name imaginable, even some Harry had never heard before.
The way he’d made him feel inferior.
Dirty.
Wrong.
Hedwig didn’t return that night. In fact, she didn’t come back the following night, or the one after that.
What had happened at dinner repeated itself over those next few days, and Harry could barely move. He was fairly certain he had a broken rib; even breathing hurt.
And still, Aunt Petunia forced him to do chores.
It didn’t matter that Harry walked hunched over, that he limped, or that he could barely see. His glasses were held together with layers of Sellotape, and his swollen eye made seeing properly nearly impossible anyway.
By the third night, the pain from his injuries wouldn’t let him settle properly. Just as he had on the nights before, Harry could only lie there remembering how each one had been inflicted on him.
His lip split open again.
His eye still swollen.
His ribs hurting worse than before.
They had hurt him deliberately.
Cruelly.
Without mercy.
Harry didn’t even realise when exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell asleep.
He slept until he heard noises outside his window, but he didn’t have the strength to get up and check. His entire body hurt, and on top of that, the smell of the blood staining his sheets from his split lip was making him feel sick.
He became alarmed when he heard someone climbing through his window, but without his glasses and with one eye swollen shut, there was very little he could make out in the darkness.
“Harry?”
Harry recognised the voice immediately.
Then someone switched on the light.
“Oh my God, Harry! Harry? What happened?!”
Ron’s voice was an alarmed whisper as he carefully touched Harry’s face.
“Uncle Vernon…” was all Harry managed to say.
Harry heard Ron growl furiously.
Then he heard him say something to someone outside the window before he began moving around the room.
“What’re you doing?” Harry asked, trying to sit up.
A sharp pain shot through his ribs and he curled in on himself, collapsing back onto the bed.
“Packing your things. You’re coming with me.”
“How’re we getting out of here?”
“I came with Fred and George. Side-Along Apparition. I’m not leaving you here. Not a bloody chance. Just stay there. I’ll sort everything.”
Ron continued packing Harry’s belongings into his trunk.
It didn’t take him long to finish.
Then Ron slipped his arms beneath Harry and easily lifted him from the bed.
“They’re going to pay for what they did to you,” Harry heard him mutter, pain threaded through his voice.
Harry could barely see him with only one good eye and no glasses.
Ron carefully lowered Harry back onto the bed before leaning out of the window and calling for his twin brothers.
Both of them Apparated into the room with two loud cracks!
Loud enough that there was absolutely no chance the Dursleys had slept through them.
“Oi! Boy! What the devil are you doing there?!”
Harry heard Uncle Vernon shouting down the hall, followed by heavy footsteps that made it quite clear he was coming closer.
Harry’s bedroom door flew open.
Uncle Vernon froze at the sight of three people standing in the room besides Harry.
“Burglars! Burglars!”
“Oh, shut it, Dursley, you absolute prat!” Ron snapped, pointing his wand straight at him. “Or I’ll turn you into a pile of shite for the rest of your miserable life.”
Ron was considerably taller than Vernon, forcing Harry’s uncle to look up at him with something very close to fear.
“Get out of my house! Who the hell are you?!”
“Harry’s boyfriend, you fucking monster! And you’re going to bloody pay for leaving him like this!”
Ron still had his wand in his hand when he swung his fist.
It connected so hard with Vernon’s face that the man went sprawling into the corridor, accompanied by the shocked screams of Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who had appeared after hearing the commotion.
“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” Ron roared, carefully gathering Harry into his arms again. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”
Fred and George moved closer.
Once they were sure they had everything—including Hedwig’s cage—and everyone was safely within reach, they Disapparated on the spot.
They left behind three utterly stunned Dursleys.
And Uncle Vernon with an enormous bruise already blooming across his cheek.
They appeared just outside the Burrow.
Ron, still holding Harry in his arms, dropped carefully to his knees and adjusted his grip so he could get a better look at him.
“Look what they’ve done to you…”
His voice broke slightly.
He looked at Harry with such pain in his eyes as he gently brushed the fringe away from his forehead.
George, who had Harry’s broken glasses in his hand, tapped them with his wand and handed them to Ron, good as new.
Ron carefully slipped them onto Harry’s face.
Harry was breathing quickly.
“So… it’s true, then?” Fred asked quietly.
Ron knew exactly what he meant.
Were they really together?
He simply nodded.
Right now, that was the last thing he cared about.
A moment later, they heard Mrs Weasley rushing towards them, already scolding the twins for Merlin knew what, until she caught sight of Ron kneeling on the ground with a badly injured Harry in his arms.
“Mum…” Ron said.
There were tears in his eyes now.
“Please. Help him.”
“Oh, my God… oh, my boys. Ron, dear, what happened? Why is Harry like this?”
Mrs Weasley looked horrified.
She quickly ushered them inside and had Harry laid down on the sofa.
There, she began treating him with every healing spell she knew. She even managed to mend his fractured rib, carefully wrapping his torso afterwards. She applied ointment to his swollen eye and, with a flick of her wand, healed his split lip.
Only then did Ron take Harry’s hand.
He sat down on the floor beside the sofa and stayed there, waiting for him to wake up.
Ron could hear Mrs Weasley whispering with the twins somewhere behind him, but he didn’t care what they were saying.
He only wanted to be beside Harry.
He wouldn’t let go of his hand.
Ever.
Ron promised himself that.
The redhead didn’t leave Harry’s side once.
Not even when his mother, noticing him beginning to nod off, begged him to go upstairs to bed and promised she would wake him the moment Harry stirred.
“No, Mum. I’ll wait here till he wakes up. I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone.”
His fingers remained intertwined with Harry’s.
Mrs Weasley looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and understanding before finally leaving them be, though not without draping a blanket over her son first.
A few hours passed before Harry finally woke, confused and still in some pain, though nowhere near as much as before.
He felt Ron’s hand wrapped around his own.
A tiny smile tugged at his lips.
“Ron?” he murmured.
Ron’s head shot up instantly.
“Harry! Harry, are you alright? How d’you feel? Mum healed you as best she could. Does anything hurt?”
The words tumbled out of Ron so quickly that Harry barely had time to process them. Ron let go of his hand only to cup Harry’s face between both of his.
“I feel better. Where am I?”
Harry’s glasses were resting on the arm of the sofa. Ron reached for them and handed them over.
“The Burrow. Don’t you remember getting here? Think you passed out.”
“No… but—you… you punched Uncle Vernon, didn’t you?”
Ron gave a quiet laugh.
“Yeah. Just don’t tell Mum. Don’t reckon she’d approve.”
Harry beamed at him, looking positively proud.
“You’re the best. Thanks for that.”
“Don’t mention it. Should’ve hit him harder.” Ron’s expression grew serious. “I’m not letting anyone hurt you, Harry. Not him, not Voldemort, not anyone. Alright?”
“I know.”
Harry smiled, and they both leaned closer, sharing a small kiss—
Until someone cleared their throat behind them.
They sprang apart immediately.
Mrs Weasley stood there.
“Harry, dear, how’re you feeling?” she asked, approaching with a tray of tea and bread rolls for the two of them. “Thought you might be hungry.”
“Mrs Weasley! It’s good to see you,” a very red-faced Harry replied. “I—I feel better. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing, dear. Go on, eat.”
Mrs Weasley left them alone again and headed back upstairs.
“They know, don’t they?” Harry asked around a mouthful of bread roll.
“Erm… Fred and George found out tonight, and, well… Mum knows too. Far as I know, that’s it for now, but I reckon everyone’ll know by morning.” Ron glanced at him. “Does that bother you?”
“Not at all… honestly, the only thing that bothers me is someone hurting you because of it.”
“Oh, Harry…” Ron squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t give a toss about any of that as long as you’re alright. Everyone else can fuck off.”
Harry laughed.
“I like that.”
“I like you more,” Ron shot back.
Harry grinned, and they leaned into each other again, this time sharing a deeper kiss.
Once they had absolutely demolished the tea and bread rolls, Ron helped Harry carefully to his feet and up the stairs to his attic bedroom.
They changed into their pyjamas, climbed beneath Ron’s orange Chudley Cannons duvet and curled up together.
And, wrapped around each other at last, they slowly succumbed to sleep.
They had been asleep for quite a while when Ron felt Harry tossing and turning beside him. He heard him whimpering softly and quickly realised he was having a nightmare.
“Harry… Harry, c’mon, wake up.”
Ron gently shook him, trying to wake him, but it was no use. Harry kept whimpering, and then Ron saw tears beginning to slip from beneath his closed eyelids.
“No please no more….” he heard Harry plead.
Then, suddenly, Harry’s eyes flew open. He was panting, looking around as he tried to work out where he was.
Harry was sweating and shivering, and it wasn’t long before he suddenly leant over the edge of the bed and was sick right there on the floor.
“Oh, no, it’s alright. It’s alright…” Ron murmured, rubbing his back soothingly as Harry retched.
When it finally stopped, Harry stayed hunched over for a moment, breathing shakily. Then a sob escaped him.
“Shh… easy. I’ve got you. You’re home, with me. I’ve got you, Harry.”
“I—I’m sorry…” Harry replied, still trembling.
“Don’t apologise for that. You’re safe now, love,” Ron murmured, pulling him against his chest. He cradled the back of Harry’s head with one hand whilst the other arm wrapped securely around his waist.
Harry slowly began to settle against him, though the occasional shiver still ran through his body.
After a moment, Ron eased back just enough to reach for his wand. With a quick movement, he cleaned up the mess beside the bed before gently drying the sweat from Harry’s face and hair.
“There. Better,” he whispered.
Ron noticed Harry’s cheeks turning pink and, smiling to himself, pressed a kiss to one of them.
“C’mon, let’s go back to sleep. I’m not letting go of you tonight—or ever, Harry, love. You can count on that.”
Ron kissed his forehead.
“Thanks, Ron… thank you, love.”
Not long afterwards, they were both snoring softly in each other’s arms.
That was exactly how Mrs Weasley found them later that morning.
She stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, a pang of tenderness warming her chest, before deciding to let them rest.
Her son was in good hands.
And so was the other boy she thought of as her son.
⸻
Harry woke in the late morning, still wrapped in Ron’s arms. He hadn’t slept that comfortably in weeks, and even his injuries felt much better than they had before.
He remembered the night before—how Ron had held him, how he’d called him love—and immediately went red again.
A little giggle escaped him before he could stop it.
“Hey, you. What’re you laughing at?” Ron asked sleepily.
“Nothing!”
The red in Harry’s cheeks gave him away.
“Nothing? And you’re red as a tomato?” Ron teased. “What? Were you dreaming about me?”
He buried his long nose into the crook between Harry’s neck and shoulder.
“No… course not. Something better.” Harry wrapped both arms around him, breathing in the soft scent of cinnamon and honey from his boyfriend’s red hair. “Thanks for looking after me last night.”
“I should’ve gone to get you sooner. Should’ve known something wasn’t right…” Ron muttered. “And I definitely should’ve hit that filthy Muggle harder. Your cousin too.”
That last bit made Harry laugh.
“What matters is that you saved me and I’m here with you now. Though I have to admit, I’m absolutely starving.”
That made them both laugh, and soon enough they dragged themselves out of bed, got washed and dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast.
Hedwig had already been at the Burrow when Harry arrived, so they sent her off with a letter for Hermione, telling her what had happened.
The rest of the day was quiet.
After everything that had happened the night before, Mrs Weasley allowed Ron to spend the whole day alone with Harry.
Harry needed some fresh air and a bit of a breather, she said.
So Ron took him down to the edge of the nearby lake, where they dipped their feet into the water and talked for hours.
“Mum and Dad asked Dumbledore why you couldn’t just come and live with us, but…” Ron grumbled, holding Harry against his chest. “All he said was that he understood, but he couldn’t allow it. Said that until you’re of age, you can’t live anywhere except with those Muggles. Bah. Stupid old git.”
Harry laughed.
“He told me. Told me why I have to.”
Slowly, Harry told him everything Dumbledore had explained after Sirius’s death.
Ron understood.
He was still angry.
“It’s rubbish that the only person with your mum’s blood is that aunt of yours. Ugh! I wish you never had to go back there.”
“At least it’s only until my next birthday.”
“Yeah. And wherever you are, I’m going to look after you.”
Later, beneath those same trees where they’d been talking, curled up in each other’s arms, they had a long afternoon nap.
That evening, the family gathered for dinner.
Mr and Mrs Weasley were there, along with Bill, the twins, Ginny, Ron and Harry.
The conversation wandered between the Ministry, the twins’ inventions, Percy still refusing to speak to the family—
and Harry.
When the conversation finally turned to him, Ron cleared his throat.
“Er… suppose you all know already, but anyway. Harry and I are together. Have been since fourth year.” Ron glanced at Harry. “For now, it’s just you lot and Hermione who know. When we’re ready… well, we’ll let everyone else know.”
“That’s perfectly alright, boys,” Mr Weasley said with a smile.
He took a sip of pumpkin juice before continuing.
“Harry’s been part of this family for a long time already, hasn’t he?”
“That’s right, dear,” Mrs Weasley added warmly. “And we’re very happy that the two of you have each other.”
Harry went red right up to his ears.
It never stopped surprising him that, at the Burrow, the most extraordinary thing of all was that everyone loved him.
Especially the boy sitting beside him.
The one Harry loved more than anyone.
The End